Canada, My Canada
by FredandGeorgefreak
Summary: Matthew Williams, the ignored, invisible personification of Canada, was called upon by his brother for the silliest of reasons. But perhaps Alfred is smarter than Matthew takes him for.


**_I do not own Hetalia. _**

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><p>Matthew didn't know what to think when his older brother had told him to meet him in Florida as quickly as possible. His first reaction was one of panic, thinking Alfred was talking about another certain Florida he knew. He was quickly relieved to find out that, no, he was not talking about the one that was situated between his legs but the state. It was an honest mistake; with his brother, he never knew what was in store.<p>

Disney World, Alfred had said. Matthew didn't have a clue as to why, but he knew better than to question his brother. There were all too many possibilities when it came to Alfred Jones. Too many for Matthew to count.

Matthew looked up at a giant sphere resembling a golf ball. Alfred could honestly be so strange at times. He had told him before that it was the earth, but Matthew had his doubts.

The temperature change was something he was most definitely not ready for.

Dressed in dark jeans and a heavy red sweatshirt, Matthew boiled, not sure how long it would be until he melted into a puddle of his own sweat.

Kumajiro squirmed in his grip, not seeming to be doing much better. He turned to look up at him with a look of pure desperation. The polar bear sniffed, not used to the Floridian weather. Matthew felt a bit bad for him, going as far as fanning him with his hand. Nothing appealed to his bear, for he just continued to whine in protest. He whacked his paw against Matthew's chest, mewling, "Hungry."

"We'll get you food soon," he promised, scratching the bear's head with a soft grin.

"Who're you?"

Sighing, Matthew brushed it off, used to it by now. He wasn't surprised that his friend had forgotten who he was; everyone always did. But that didn't make him feel any better.

The only person who seemed to remember him was Francis; his father, though strange in his ways, never failed to recognize his son, happily no less. Alfred was too wrapped up in himself to pay attention to anyone else, and Arthur was too wrapped up in Alfred as well. Matthew was the reject, second child that no parent, hell, no_ one,_ wanted.

"Mattie!" Alfred shouted, waving as he ran up to him. His blonde cowlick bounced along with the rest of his body. Long legs, clothed in shorts, Matthew noted with a bit of jealousy, were connected to a thin torso, all topped off with a caramel tanned face. Alfred's sapphire eyes sparkled from the sunlight and, what Matthew assumed, the cups of coffee Alfred had undoubtedly drank that morning.

Before he could reply, Alfred attacked Matthew to the ground with a loud burst of laughter. Rubbing his head, attempting to sit, he picked Kuma back up, the poor thing a bit dazed from the fall. The bear was blinking his small, black eyes in surprise as he cuddled closer to his owner's chest.

"Don't do that again, Alfred," Matthew scolded, standing up, rubbing Kumajiro behind his ears. Pouting, Alfred slung an arm around his younger brother's shoulders. He resembled a kicked puppy far too much, and it wouldn't really come as a shock to him if he used the same, pitiful look on every McDonalds worker he came into contact with, just to get a burger for free; no one could resist the pleading, baby blues that Alfred used completely to his advantage.

"Aw, I missed you, little brother!" Alfred exclaimed, crying in annoyance when his arm was pushed away. Alfred really wasn't that much older. He only declared his independence first. Just because Matthew was a late bloomer didn't mean he and Alfred were that separate in age. Besides, Francis had found him not long after he and Arthur discovered Alfred in the field. But independence days were there for a reason, and he couldn't really fight it. "I wanted to show you the new part of my place! Isn't it amazing?"

As the two stepped into the large park, Matthew looked around. He wasn't wrong. Save from the giant golf ball, the rest of it seemed relatively normal. Normal for Alfred's standards at least.

"Isn't it?" Alfred said again, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Matthew was pulled in another direction before he could process much else, clutching onto Kumajiro. Why he had agreed to meet up with Alfred in the first place was a question he had yet to find an answer to. Really, just having to put up with him was a hassle in itself; it was like he was looking after a newly formed colony, except Alfred had outgrown that title long ago. But there really was no difference between Alfred and Peter, when he thought about it, besides the fact that Peter could be much better behaved. Berwald and Tino must've been miracle workers. Perhaps he could send Alfred to Sweden for a while, just to shape him up.

Suddenly, he was facing a large path, which seemed to lead to a...what exactly he was looking at most definitely didn't belong in Orlando. Send it back a few thousand years and to the south of the Western Hemisphere, maybe then it wouldn't stick out as much.

A tall pyramid decorated in golden pictures was situated in the middle of a bunch of carts with colorful dolls and large hats. He had been transported far away from America, much farther away from Canada. Glancing to Alfred, who had his arms wide spread, he felt himself being tugged against Alfred's side as he squeezed his waist.

"It's the World Showcase!" Alfred said, pulling Matthew around the notable monument, holding him too tight for Matthew to escape. "See? Mexico made me swear that I'd make him huge. And I did, didn't I?"

So that was what that was. It made sense: the giant Aztec pyramid, the countless sombreros piled high, the aroma of tacos in the air; honestly, could Alfred be more stereotypical? José wouldn't care how he was represented, that he knew. All he cared about was being noticed by his northern neighbors; sometimes, Matthew forgot that José was older that him. He was the youngest North American colony and the least important at that. Still, the fact that Alfred recognized José was touching nonetheless.

"Very impressive," Matthew commented. If he interjected or disagreed with his brother, he'd never hear the end of it. Going along with whatever crazy idea filled his mind was the only sure fire way he'd make it back to Canada alive.

Alfred smiled proudly. "I know! Now, c'mon!" Grabbing his brother's hand once more, he pulled him away from the pyramid, taking him to a large square with antique, brick cottages with flags strung across the sky.

Norway, Alfred had explained. All of the Nordics, in the need of a good laugh, had agreed to let the silver haired nation have his own section, unknowingly at that. When Lukas had found out, he had been anything but amused, even going as far as smacking Mathais across the face and stealing Emil's puffin and hiding it in Tino and Berwald's kitchen. "Don't mess with Lukas," Alfred warned with wide eyes, and for once, Matthew actually believed something he said.

Yao had all but forced another Chinatown on Alfred, who had finally given in with no real choice in the matter. "I practically own you," he said; Alfred couldn't deny that one. In desperate fear of his trading partner cutting him off, he had built an incredibly red, geometrical cityscape complete with gong noises and somewhat authentic Asian music. Yao had designed it himself, knowing that Alfred would mess it up and get his American germs over the genuine atmosphere that was China.

Stopping in front of the Germany pavilion, he sighed, looking up at it dreamily. How Gilbert would enjoy it, he thought. Though, his boyfriend probably wouldn't think it was awesome enough for his Prussian liking; then again, he could just go to the little restaurant near the end and get drunk on beer. That would shut him up. What a strange sight it would be, loud, obnoxious Gilbert strolling down the street with a tiny, blonde Canadian on his arm as they wore Mickey Mouse ears and bit down on soft pretzels. It was like a dream that Matthew never wanted to wake up from.

"Uh, dude, you're giving me the crazy eyes," Alfred said, waving his hand in front of his face. "Something wrong? You were kinda staring off into space there. What's going…oh." Realizing where he was standing, Alfred rolled his eyes. "You're such a girl, Mattie. Put away the heart eyes, and let's go."

Giggling, Matthew, feeling his heart grow warm over the thought of his ever so loving Gil, continued after Alfred.

He couldn't help but smile over the fact that Italy was situated right next to Germany. "Feliciano made me!" Alfred protested, which Matthew couldn't deny. Just as he loved Gilbert, Feliciano loved Ludwig just as much, possibly even more with his overly enlarged heart. The German brothers really did have their hands full, what with one eccentric Italian and an introverted Canadian; neither of them seemed to be complaining.

"Lovino was really against the idea though," Alfred added under his breath. Another thing that Matthew believed. While Feliciano loved Ludwig with all of his heart, Lovino hated him with all of his being. He had once overheard Lovino saying that Ludwig reminded him far too much of a boy who had made Feliciano cry when they were both very young, and there was no way he was letting Ludwig do that as well.

Over protective big brothers were the best at giving threats after all, Alfred going at it with Gilbert not a week into dating Matthew. It was perhaps the one time Matthew had ever seen Alfred being serious. What a grand time it was breaking up that fight. Being the small boy he was, he knew he didn't stand much of a chance against two overly grown giants. He hadn't left that fight without an accidental blow to the cheek from Alfred; that was another thing big brothers were good at: "accidently" punching their younger siblings in the face.

With America being next, Matthew let out a groan. Was this the entire reason for him being there in the first place? It wouldn't shock him; Alfred loved nothing more than to talk about himself, and from the look of the large amphitheater in front of him, there would definitely be talking. But to his bewilderment, Alfred only spent a few moments admiring his pavilion with a fond, heartfelt grin before he saluted it with pride, leading Matthew away.

Japan, just like China, was ironic and as stereotypically Asian as Matthew could imagine it to be. Though, knowing Kiku, he probably had no problem with it, always having to agree with anything Alfred said. It only fed into his ego, and as sweet as Kiku was, Matthew really wished he would stop.

Squealing, breaking away from the thought of his brother growing more conceited, Matthew began to run at the sight of a mock Eiffel Tower rising in the distance. Dashing towards it with a large smile, he clapped, skidding to a stop in front of it. How he missed the elder, European nation who had once raised him. "Oh, Papa," he sighed, happiness shining in his violet eyes. What he would do to see him more often than he did. Memories of breakfasts filled with crêpes and walks through flower filled fields flooded through Matthew, and he felt his heart soar. He'd have to remember to call Francis as soon as he returned home.

Cocking an eyebrow as they made their way down a long pathway, nearing a section with an incredibly large flag of the Union Jack, he looked to Alfred in confusion, but Alfred seemed to be staring at it just as Matthew had stared at the Germany pavilion. Being an entire ocean away from the one you loved was never easy, and Matthew wasn't the only one who knew that feeling. Arthur was a busy nation, and Alfred knew that. But only having a small window of time to spend with your boyfriend was difficult; at least with Gilbert, he didn't have to worry about him dealing with foreign affairs or meetings. The perks of dating a retired nation.

"Artie hasn't seen this yet," Alfred said. "I hope he'll like it. I wanted it to be special. Plus, from the top of one of the buildings, you get a perfect view of this water-light show I've got. I'm gonna charm my way into his heart. And possibly into his pants."

Swatting at him, Matthew scolded. "You're such a teenager, Alfred, honestly."

"Hey, I'm like, a hundred years older than you! If anyone's the teenager here, it's you! I'm older and much more mature. I'm allowed to have anyone I want and do with them whatever I want!" Alfred? More mature? What a concept that was. "But really, I hope it'll make Arthur happy. He's always the cutest when he's happy."

No matter how childish, no matter how insufferable Alfred might have been, the look of pure adoration playing at his face was one that Matthew took to heart; Alfred had never been in love before, but then again, Matthew hadn't really been either. But Alfred was so different; he was too infatuated with himself to even notice that anyone else existed. But he noticed Arthur; Arthur was his world.

"I'm sure he'll love it," Matthew encouraged sweetly, nudging his shoulder against Alfred's bicep. Beaming, Alfred nodded proudly, but shrieked when Matthew moved to take a step forward.

"Close your eyes!" he demanded, grasping his sweatshirt sleeve firmly.

"What? But why?"

"Just close them!" Alfred repeated. Huffing, Matthew let his eyes slip close, jumping when he felt two hands cover his already shut pupils. "Just incase," Alfred whispered cheerfully into his ear, leading him forward.

Ignoring his protests, he led Matthew along carefully, in fear of letting his baby brother fall. This was the entire reason for bringing him here, and Alfred really wanted his brother to like what he had done for him. He deserved it more than any other nation on the earth.

"Okay, on the count of three, you can open your eyes," Alfred said, removing his hands. Counting down, Alfred's excitement grew as Matthew's eyes fluttered open. Looking around, a questioning look on his face, Matthew turned towards his brother.

"What's going on? Where are we?"

"Take a guess," Alfred teased, a gleam in his eye as he pushed him closer.

Taking another glance around, realization settling over Matthew's features, his jaw slightly dropped. No, he had to be wrong. There was no possibility that he was seeing what he thought he was. No one knew him, and no one ever would.

But what he was seeing _was _him. The totem poles rose high with colorfully painted details and the giant stone castle in the center stood proudly along the bricked pavement. A replica of the Butchart Gardens from British Columbia was filled with flowers in purples and pinks. Fountains poured water into pools surrounded by stones, dragonflies buzzing around the water plants as the wind blew through the tall trees.

He refused to believe that this was real, that it was all an illusion. What proof did he have to believe that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him? But he had to know. If he didn't know, he'd be wondering until he finally did.

With the smallest shred of hope he had left after all of his years of rejection, Matthew turned to Alfred and whispered in a quiet voice, "Is this...Is this Canada?"

Alfred spread his arms wide, showing off the pavilion as he spun in a circle with glee. "Yeah! Don't you love it?"

Silence settled over them as Matthew stepped up to one of the wooden buildings, resting his palm against it. He observed everything he could. The entire space was dressed up to the finest degree. It was the most gorgeous representation of his country that he'd ever seen. But then again, no one really represented his country in the first place. It was the only representation of his country that he'd seen; and it was perfect.

But that wasn't even the best part. In the back, pushed into a large corner was a huge rock formation, a waterfall flowing down the side. Walking across a wooden bridge to it, he gasped at the three hundred and sixty degree screen spread across a circular room. The kindest people he had ever gotten the privilege of meeting stared down at him with their ever so present, completely Canadian smiles. Forests with evergreens rose high as moose grazed through fields, and children played with their new hockey sticks on ice rinks. That was him. He knew it all too well for it not to be. How could he question it now when it was so clearly true?

Tears tickled at the sides of his eyes. Never had he been this appreciated before; he wasn't sure how to feel.

A hand clapped him on the shoulder. Looking behind him, he found a smiling Alfred, seeming quite proud with himself. And he should be. What he had done for him was something no one else had ever done.

In his moment of weakness, Matthew launched himself at him, hugging him around the waist just as Alfred would usually do to him. Sobbing into his shirt, he whimpered, "thank you," over and over again. What else was he meant to do?

With a soft chuckle, Alfred hugged him back, allowing him to rest his head on his chest. Rubbing his back, he murmured "Anything for you, little brother," into the mop of golden blonde hair under his chin.

Alfred knew how people treated Matthew, who was pulled flush against him, and it struck something inside of him. He loved being the center of attention, no one, not even he, could question that. But from the corner of his eye, he could always see how his brother was hurting, yearning to be noticed by someone other than Gilbert and Francis.

Hatred was a feeling he knew all too well, but knowing that Matthew was so disconnected from the people he was supposed to call his family made him loathe everything about himself.

Matthew was the epitome of perfection. He got along with all of the people who cared enough to notice him, and though he was soft spoken, he knew what was right and what he was meant to do for his country and for his allies. He had always been a good brother, allowing Alfred to slip into his bed late at night after he had had a nightmare when they were younger, cleaning up the messes Alfred had made before he would get in trouble with Arthur.

Just what about him made him so invisible?

Maybe it was because he was due north from him; the United States was a superpower. Where did that leave Matthew? The reject pile? How wrong that sounded, Alfred thought.

This would change things. People would see him, just as they were meant to. People would see this place that rose high into the clouds and be attracted to it. They'd want to know more. They'd want to know all they could about the great nation that was Canada. Then, Matthew wouldn't feel so alone.

So, resting against the top of Matthew's head, he mentally praised himself. He did a good job, and he was pleased. For once, he did something for someone other then himself, for someone who so clearly deserved the acknowledgement that they weren't getting. And in the end, as he looked down at the deep dimples from Matthew's smile, the way his eyes twinkled as he looked around more and more, Alfred knew that it was all worth it.


End file.
